Sunday, July 13, 1980

Saturday July 12th

I had to go out again today. Mum and I took the bus at the bottom of the road and we got into Holdsworth Square station at about 1115 a.m. We immediately went to the ticket inquiries place to get me a return train ticket to Oxford for Monday. The price was £11.55p with my Railcard. Mum was going to meet Dad at 1.30 p.m. so she gave me my bus fare back (36p) and I went off to the Main Library where I spent a happy hour or so leafing through books.

I went to the Social Sciences floor where I looked at several of the Brontë books there. I eventually chose “Gods, Graves and Scholars,” a book Dad has often recommended. I also chose “The Ape Within Us” and then, off to the third floor. Because I’ve read all the astronomy books I want to from the Main, I chose “Japanese Aircraft of the Pacific War.”

Then I went to Smith’s on Queensgate where I was torn between an urge to spend money on a book for spendings sake and an urge to buy something I really did want. I chose the latter and didn’t buy a thing.

I got home shortly after dinner. Carol was sat in the front room reading a Gerald Durrell book and it was here we both sat until Mum, Dad and Nanna P. came home.

Things became hectic thereafter; Andrew and Robert rolled up around three and I helped Andrew unload all his baggage from Robert’s van. He is up ‘till September now, and has got a part-time job at Cole’s, where he worked before going to College.

Robert and Carol gave me my birthday present – a blue T-shirt with “Santana – Europe 1980” written across the front. My supposed image (at least my recently wanted image) of literary recluse and fanatic came into direct conflict with this.

Andrew remarked upon the length of my hair – I don’t feel it is particularly long but obviously he’ll notice the difference more. I’m now ½ an inch or so taller than him – I must be 6’ 5” now at least.

I spent most of the evening playing records – “Caravanserai,” “Borboletta" (Santana), and talking to Robert, Carol and Andrew. I really do like having people to talk to on a similar level. That doesn’t mean I find Mum and Dad too adult but I have obviously more in common with Andrew or Robert; we have similar musical tastes etc.

Later on, Mum and Dad went to Liz’s farewell party (she’s off to Hong Kong) and Carol, Robert and Andrew went to the pub’. They came back about eleven and all went to bed shortly after.

As I write this I’m sprawled full length on the floor. The time is 0055 tomorrow morning and Mum and Dad are due home in two hours. My diary entries are lacking in something lately, they are becoming a mere reportage of events instead of an unburdening place for my mental anxieties.

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